Wishful Thinking
by nuclearXsquid
Summary: The entire evening, Morgan had been sort of touchy-feely. Reid just sighed internally; there was no way Morgan could return his feelings. Morgan was just drunk as usual. Morgan/Reid Slash, One Shot.


I wrote this in Spanish class, hehe. This is my first CM fanfic, and also my first slash fanfic, so I'd love feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own these pretty boys.

Warning: This is SLASH. If you are homophobic, please leave!

Wishful Thinking

Spencer Reid looked up from what he was reading at the sound of the elevator door opening. Derrick Morgan walked into the bullpen from lunch, flashing Reid a grin as if to say, 'good afternoon.'

Spencer weakly grinned back, brain working furiously at diagnosing the feeling he had in his chest. He had already factored out all medical conditions and was moving on to temporary insanity when a hand reached out to snag Spencer's cold coffee off of his desk. The same hand than replaced the coffee with another steaming one.

Spencer smiled thanks at Morgan, and then took a sip. He grinned again, then reached into his desk and took out two sugar packets. Morgan huffed in annoyance; he had been trying the entire week to get the amount of sugar in Reid's coffee the perfect amount.

Hotch took that moment to enter the office and motioned for all of the present profilers to gather in the briefing room. They followed him, but saw no case file on the big conference table and no grim pictures on the overhead projector.

As it turned out, Hotch wanted them in there to congratulate them on completing the last couple of cases successfully and in quick succession. They were sent home early on the condition that they would be ready to work bright and early the next day.

Reid was ecstatic. He could go home and finish reading _The Fountainhead_, which had been distracting him for some time now.

He was thinking about the subtle hints of slash between Roark and Keating when an arm was slung around his shoulders. Morgan wondered what Reid was going to do with the rest of his day.

Reid told him what he had planned, but Morgan shook his head and drug Reid out to his car to join his coworkers at a local bar.

The entire evening, Morgan had been sort of touchy-feely. Reid just sighed internally; there was no way Morgan could return his feelings. Morgan was just drunk as usual.

Then something surprising happened, Reid was asked to dance. The girl who had asked him was tall – almost as tall as Morgan, but Reid accepted, if only to get away from Morgan and the conflicting feelings that Morgan induced.

The girl at least, was not as touchy as Morgan. She danced a good foot away from Reid, and Reid was thankful, not that Reid knew how to dance in the first place.

Their dance was interrupted by a firm, strong hand on Reid's shoulder. The hand spun him around, but Reid lost his balance and collided with the person whose hand was still touching Reid.

It was Morgan. The man began dancing with Reid, getting way closer than the girl – or anyone – had ever been. And Reid liked it.

It was very awkward at first, but Reid forced himself to stop analyzing the situation and surrender himself to the waves of lust that were threatening to overcome him. Hands found his waist, and he flinched at first, and then rested his hands on Morgan's shoulders.

It was nice, for a while, but both men felt the need for more. Morgan's hands moved around to cup Reid's ass and Reid arched his back from the feeling of raw lust. Reid moved his arms to around Morgan's neck to press more skin together.

Reid had to remind himself that this couldn't be real. Morgan was drunk, and when the man became sober (if he even remembered what had happened), he would treat Reid coldly. It was too much for Reid to stand.

Reid pulled away from Morgan, heading for a corner to wait out his misery.

Morgan, however, had other ideas.

The man followed Reid over to his corner, than pushed the smaller body against the wall. Reid protested, trying to push him away and mumbling excuses about Morgan being drunk.

Morgan ground his hips into Reid and the younger man whimpered and stopped struggling. "Spencer," he said. "I'm not drunk."

Then Morgan went in for a kiss.


End file.
